


Things in the Basement

by itsdarkinhere



Series: Trashtober 2020 [11]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Branding, Established Relationship, F/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Not Canon Compliant, Psychological Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere Sasori, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26967028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsdarkinhere/pseuds/itsdarkinhere
Summary: Life with Sasori has been almost perfect, only he keeps telling you to stay out of the basement. It gets harder and harder to heed his warnings.
Relationships: Sasori (Naruto)/Reader
Series: Trashtober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951207
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Things in the Basement

**Author's Note:**

> Day 11 of Trashtober:  
> 11 | Branding
> 
> This was too good to pass up. Here's something spooky for all you horror-lovers out there. 
> 
> There's no happy ending here.

Dinner was on the table and getting cold. 

Despondently, you stare at the dishes you had carefully put together, having spent a good amount of the afternoon prepping, in hopes that Sasori would remember that it has been a year since you two met. You don’t remember much of your life before Sasori, but the bits and pieces you did remember weren’t nearly as pleasant as the memories you’d collected since meeting him. There had been a lot of darkness and a lot of pain, but he had saved you, and your world had been a lot brighter and happier since. Even when you asked him about your life before, he was cagy with his responses. He’d look at you with those cryptically beautiful eyes and simply called you his Perfect Girl, and that the past was in the past, and that was where it should stay.

You liked being Sasori’s Perfect Girl. 

The old grandfather clock that Sasori had refurbished himself struck 10 o’clock. It was getting late and you glanced from the clock to the closed door that you knew led to Sasori’s basement workshop. He was still down there. He hadn’t come out since he disappeared downstairs after breakfast. You were worried about him. _What could he be doing down there?_ You wondered, but you knew never to ask. Sasori was private about his projects; he only told you as much as he wanted to, and it was never more than the occasional: “ _It’s going good_ ” or “ _I had to start over_ ”. Either way, he would say it with the same blank stare, the same dull inflection, as if he wasn’t expecting anything different. 

Curiosity gnawed at you and there was more than one occasion when your vision would telescope and you’d wonder if he’d notice if you simply _took a little peek._ What harm would it do? You’d ask yourself. You might even be able to help him. He did, after all, oftentimes say that you were a clever girl. His Perfect Girl. Truth was, you always tried to ignore the basement door, but sometimes you couldn’t put it out of your mind. The presence of it pulsated in your conscious mind like a heartbeat and sometimes that heartbeat was loud and made your head hurt, other times it was barely audible. Usually, when Sasori was behind its closed door, the pulse rang loudly in your ears. 

You got up. You pushed back your seat. You walked over.

You stared at the bronze door knob and could see how worn out it was. Something had corroded it; maybe time, maybe the chemicals that Sasori always came out smelling like. You weren’t sure, but as you reached out to open the door and call for Sasori, the knob rattled and turned. 

Quickly, you jumped back, heart stopping as if you’ve been caught doing something bad.

Sasori emerged, his eyes widening only a fraction, before he was staring at you with his usual placid expression. He was beautiful and grew more beautiful still, every time you saw him. His pale, porcelain skin, his light and agile build, and his deep brown eyes. They were offset perfectly by a crown of thick elegant lashes and a head of vibrant red hair. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think that he was the perfect one.

“What are you doing?” He asked, wiping something off his hands with a dirty rag. 

He smelled of oil and resin, but underneath all the chemicals you could make out his natural scent; sweet belladonna.

“Dinners on the table.” You managed to say, feeling a little warm in the face as he stared at you with that piercing gaze. There’s nothing that you could hide from him. “Do you need help down there?” 

Sasori’s stare made you feel like he was picking you apart, analyzing you, always. It was always at the edge of his expression, and it was especially noticeable when he thought you weren’t looking. The corner of his lips twitched, and slowly he let the smile spread. “You know not to go into the basement.” He said mildly. Reaching up, he ran his knuckles down the curve of your cheek, threading his long skillful fingers into the soft hairs at the back of your neck and slowly pulled you down toward him. He kissed you sweetly, on the cheek, and walked away as your heart thudded in your chest. “Let’s eat.” 

Dinner was a quiet affair, as it usually was. Sasori wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and he seemed to simply enjoy the fact that he wasn’t eating alone, but did little to engage with you. You licked your lips, “So, how is the project going?” You asked, because you knew that Sasori’s mind was still on whatever he had left in the basement. 

He hummed, glancing at you in that way again. Studying you, like you had pins through your butterfly wings. “Don’t worry yourself over it.” He dismissed you easily and usually you would have let it slide. But not today. Since coming out of his workshop he hadn’t mentioned a single thing about the dinner you’ve made or the fact that you two were supposed to be celebrating an important day. 

“It’s been a year, Sasori. Why are you still keeping it a secret?” You said forcefully. You hadn’t intended to slam down your bowl so loudly on the table, but for some reason you had blown the lid off of something dangerous—a dark emotion swelled within your chest and you had ignored it while it festered for months. Jealousy. “Whatever it is, you can tell me! Don’t you trust me?” You tried to communicate how hurt you were. “I want to help you. I want to be part of… Whatever it is you’re doing down there.” You tried to tell him that he doesn’t have to do everything by himself. 

“Stop.” He cut you off, his voice quiet as he stared at you with a foreboding expression. “You’re asking too many questions.” Sasori was a very reserved person. He didn’t explode or yell when he was angry. Instead, when Sasori was angry, he became withdrawn and even more aloof than he usually was. He stands up from his seat, and you thought he was going to disappear downstairs again, but instead you were surprised when he slowly walked over to you and took your face in both his hands so that you could only look at him. He searched your face with those austere eyes. “You know you’re not supposed to ask too many questions.” He said slowly and evenly. You couldn’t help it, you liked it when he touched you, when he was close to you. You leaned into his palm and would have purred if you were able to, because—deep down—you were lonely. And you knew that he was lonely too. Sasori released a small, amused, huff. “My perfect girl.” He whispered, only for you to hear, and smoothed a gentle hand over your cheek, your brow, your hair. “You only wanted my attention didn’t you?” He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your mouth and you whimpered into his mouth. His touch was always so cool against you, which was a godsend because he always managed to make you feel too warm. Reverently, you curl your fingers around his delicate wrists and hold him there, so that he couldn’t easily leave you—but knew that he could easily break away if he wanted to. “Were you lonely, today? Did you think I’d forgotten that it was our special day?” He asked, his voice so low that it was nothing more than a drone that pierced your soul and made your heart shudder. 

You nodded, feeling tears gather at the corner of your eyes and knew you were being pathetic. Childish. 

But Sasori just chuckles. “I can’t forget about my perfect girl.” He whispered against your eyelids, kissing each one, making them flutter.

He takes you then, right on the dinner table, playing your body perfectly until you were screaming his name in ecstasy. He knew your body even better than you knew it yourself, fucking into you with deep, gentle thrusts, whispering how perfect you were, how proud he was of your. Your heart soared from the closeness that your bodies offered, feeling like your hearts beat as one as the smooth slide of your hips, grinding up against each other, took you higher and higher. He chased you to your completion, his teeth biting into your shoulder when he found his own. You came around him, with a heart-stopping gasp, which he worked you through. With your shared passions spent, and the ugly jealous beast inside you sated, you let him kiss the sweat from your brow and slowly pull out. Your toes curled with pleasure as you felt his supple body press against you. He gave you a proud smile, small as it was. 

“I’m going to take a bath.” He brushed some hair away from your rosey face. 

“Ok. I’ll… I’ll just clean up here and…” 

“And we can continue celebrating in the bedroom.” He murmured, kissing you deeply, before fixing himself and heading up the stairs to the master bathroom. The water goes on a few minutes after.

In his absence, you collect yourself too, feeling a little weak-kneed, but happy. Sasori wasn’t always this gentle, but he must have also felt the need to do something _special_ for your one year together. Righting yourself, you made yourself presentable again before quickly cleaning up what remained of dinner. There was still the rest of the night for the two of you, and, from what Sasori had said, he planned on spending it with you. Humming to yourself with a renewed delight, you set about washing the dishes and putting away the leftovers. 

While setting aside the final bowl, you heard a crash, like something heavy had fallen over. 

It startled you, but even more so when you realized that the sound had come from the basement. You stared at the basement door like it had just spoken to you. Your vision telescoped once again and created a dark tunnel for you to look through, with the door at the end of it. The loud heartbeat returned, pulsating in the back of your mind kind a poison that was being pumped through your veins. Like an itch you couldn’t scratch. Like an idea you couldn’t remove from your brain. You knew that you should have just gone upstairs and told Sasori, but what if whatever was on the other side of the door became an emergency and he left you to handle it tonight? You could also just leave it for him to discover in the morning, but what if he got angry that you didn’t tell him when it happened? You couldn’t lie to him and say that you didn’t hear it, he always knew when you were lying, and then he’d have to punish you. 

For a long moment, what felt like many hours—though it was only minutes—you stood in front of the basement door wringing your hands. There was _something_ on the other side. Something Sasori didn’t talk to you about, something he spent more time on than he did with you, something that fed the slithering darkness inside you. It was the heartbeat at the back of your mind, the eyes that were always watching you when you were alone, and the mistress that you had to share Sasori with—weather you wanted to or not.

You had to see what it was.

And so, you slowly opened the door and stared down the long stairway into darkness. 

You descended the stairs with one hand on the wall for guidance. The old wood creaked beneath your feet, but otherwise you were surrounded by silence. There was a musty smell to the room, cut with a formidable dose of chemicals that singed the inside of your nostrils. You coughed into your sleeve and felt your eyes begin to involuntarily water. The light from the top of the stairs barely reached down to the bottom, but you were able to find a hanging light switch when you felt your feet reach solid ground. Tugging the switch caused the fluorescent bulbs to flicker and hum, as they slowly warmed up in their tubing. 

What you saw, startled you. Sasori’s workshop was filled with bodies and piles of limbs. At first you couldn’t breathe and you were frozen where you stood, but then you started to see the detail under the harsh white lighting. There was something sterile to the surrounding, it was kept clean and meticulous, as you’d expect of him, but it was also unsettling. Now that you could get a clearer look, the bodies looked like they were made of wood or ceramic. There was a large kiln burning at the corner of the shop, a table at the center, and all around were the eerie and dilapidated bodies of, what you could only assume to be, life-sized dolls. You put a hand to your chest and took a deep and calming breath. Just dolls. You could almost laugh at your own stupidity. 

It took one more glance around the workshop to see that one such doll seemed to have fallen from its hanger—which you thought look ominously like something butchers hung their meat from. The fallen doll was probably what you had heard, and it was currently sitting slumped against the wall, head bowed, limbs akimbo, dark hair obscuring the face. It was a little unsettling, especially when the doll was as large as you, but you figured, might as well put it back in its proper place since you’re down here. 

You go to do just that, picking the doll up by the armpits. As you hoist up the heavy, wooden doll, its head rolls back and the hair falls away to reveal a face. And cold shoots through your limbs, freezing you from the inside. 

It’s your face. 

The doll has your face. 

Why does the doll have _your face?_

You looked around the workshop, at all the other bodies, and you realized that the other dolls, piled against the walls, leaning on each other, all had your face—or at least the one with heads did. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, you let the doll clatter to the ground and scream as its hollow face—your hollow face—stared back at you with sightless eyes. You realized how lifelike that doll looked then; it was uncanny, how real it looked as it stared back at you. You couldn’t help it, you screamed again. 

You screamed again and again, and backed away in disbelief at the other bodies, at all the other limbs; they all looked just as real, now that you were up close, now that you were really looking. You checked your hands and your visions blurred, was there wood underneath your skin too? The heartbeat returned and it pounded against the side of your head until it turned painful. The itch in the back of your mind that you couldn’t scratch, was it because on some subconscious level you knew? 

“I told you… Not to come down here.” Sasori drawled. 

You turned to look at him with your wild and crazed expression, and he just looked back at you with mild irritation on his face. His hair was wet and falling into his eyes, his shirt was opened, revealing his smooth, lean chest, and he was barefoot. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth and shook his head, “Everything was going so well this time too.” He said, taking slow and measured steps over to where the kiln was burning.

“S-Sasori,” You finally were able to find your voice but it came out of you trembling, much like the rest of your body. “What...What is this?” 

Sasori ignored you, instead pulling a large rod from the fire and examined it. You stared at the glowing tip of the rod and realized that it was an iron brand. The shape of it was intricate, forged into a scorpion that was currently an angry blazing orange—after being extracted from the fire. You looked around and saw that a similar mark had all been burned into the bellies of the other dolls. The other versions of you. As he approached you with the brand, you quickly back away, shaking your head. “Wait! Sasori, wait!” 

“You were supposed to be perfect.” He wasn’t listening to you, instead he was mumbling to himself with a perplexed look, as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “Where did I go wrong?” He continued to advance, so you did the only thing you could think of. You ran. 

You scrambled for the stairs, your legs feeling like they were about to break from the force in which you were propelling yourself with, but something—some invisible string—caught you and yanked you backwards, clear off your feet. You landed on your back and became tangled up in string, the more you flailed around the more you realized that you’re trapped. Sasori came to loom over you with the glowing iron brand in his hand and tilted his head to study you once again. “Another failure.” He sighed, before pulling up your shirt to reveal your unguarded belly.

You’re screaming. You were screaming, begging, and sobbing for him to not do this. You promised him that you would be good, that you wouldn’t tell anyone, that you could still be perfect. That was when you saw the veneer crack, he grinned down at you with wide eyes and an even wider smile. He looked absolutely deranged, but even with such wildness in his eyes you thought he looked hauntingly beautiful. More passionate than you’ve ever seen him before. 

“No, no, no. You can’t be perfect. Only I can _make_ you perfect.” He told you. “You were close, but I’ll have you mark you as another failure.” He reached down and stroked your cheek, and loving used his thumb to wipe away your tears. “I don’t want to start over, but...” Then, he touched the iron to your belly and blistering pain expanded through your body like a tidal wave—an explosion. The invisible string trap tightened around you, cutting into your skin and holding you immobile as you watched Sasori press and hold the brand against your stomach. You wretched, dinner bubbling up and erupting from your lips. You shook and cried as your entire existence melted down to a single, blinding hot point and the light of it consumed your whole body, reducing you to cinder. 

Sasori is once again mumbling to himself. “The next one will be even better…”


End file.
